


Survivors

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Movie)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First he is forced to leave her. Then she chooses to leave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éowyn finds her brother in the stable to say farewell. 
> 
> Set moments after Grima banishes Éomer from Rohan.

She finds him in the stable among his men. She stands in the doorway, watching him, and across the room he looks up, their eyes meeting through the frantic crowd. He says something in Hama’s ear then steps away, the throng of horses and men parting for him. He stops in front of her and she gazes into his piercing eyes. _Take me with you,_ she thinks, _we can be together, run away from all this._

“Éowyn,” he breathes her name with ragged desperation.

Stepping away from the crowd she follows him into an empty stall. The door falls shut behind them and he takes her face in his hands and pulls her roughly to him. His lips are hot and hard and taste of horse and salt and sweat; all the things she loves about him, about their home. “Éowyn.” He presses their foreheads painfully together. Tears fall unchecked down his cheeks, mingling with hers. “Come with me. Leave this gods-forsaken place. Come with me, sister.”

 _Your heart gallops apace with mine, my brother._ She closes her eyes against the longing, leaning into his strong hands. _But you would not love me so well as you do if I could not be strong when you need me to be._

“I cannot,” she opens her eyes, looking into his, and takes his hands from her face, covering them with hers, pressing them to her lips. “I am needed here. Someone must stand between Saruman and the King.” Her lips twist in a bitter smile. “Even if it is in name only.”

“I need you,” he murmurs.

“Our people need me. The House of Eorl cannot fall.”

The anguish in his face makes her heart pound as though it would crack her ribs. Theodred, Theoden, Éomer…Everyone she loves is being wrenched away from her. She flings her arms around her brother’s neck, clinging to the scent of him, wanting to melt away in his arms and become one with him that this dreadful decision would not be hers to make.

Strong arms around her waist push her back against the wall of the stable; lift her onto the empty trough. Hard kisses are pressed into her neck as rough hands push past her skirt, searching, spreading her thighs until she begins to gasp, burying her face in his hair, keeping silent through long practice as fingers that have known her since childhood work within her, drawing forth that sweet pain that makes her moan secretly into his ear. When he feels her tighten around him, bucking like an untamed filly, he moves with her, pressing between her thighs and pushing himself inside her for only a moment, the space of a heartbeat and a wild, desperate thrust, before she feels his release.

She starts, tries to pull back. He’s never allowed himself to spill his seed inside her before. And as she struggles against him he curls one powerful hand around her hip, pressing the other to her belly. Resting his head on her shoulder she can feel him pulsing within her even as his words tremble against her cheek. “Take root there, little rider. Grow strong and bring my departed soul home to she who bears you.”

The words of a Rider to his woman; a Rider on the eve of a battle from which he does not expect to return.

“Éomer!” her hands fly over his chest, his shoulders, “No! You will return, this cannot be how it ends! Brother, love…” She kisses him, desperately, breathing her life into him. She caresses his face, as dear to her as breath and life, studying each familiar line and angle. His hand is still on her belly, and she feels him shake beneath her touch.

He is not weak, but she can make him seem to be so. No. This she must do for him. Trailing her fingers down the hard line of his jaw she presses a gentle kiss to his lips. Pulling away she looks into his eyes, and says with a voice that does not falter, “I await you, my lord, and a year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return. Come back with your helm upon your brow, or resting in state upon your breast.”

“My lord Éomer!” comes a cry from without their stable-bed.

Their time is over. He pulls back, firmly, and she stands. They turn away, straightening their clothing, and, finishing before her, Éomer steps out.

She follows after a moment, head held high. Fifty men are leaving with her brother; nearly three thousand more will join him before nightfall. Hama hands him the reins to Firefoot and he pauses, drawing her to him with his eyes, and together they walk out of the stable.

She watches him leave, the wind streaming the crest of his helm behind him, one last wave farewell before he vanishes beyond her sight. Alone on the hill she feels her tears dry on her cheek and draws light fingers across her stomach.

He would survive. So would she.  



	2. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day before her wedding to Faramir, Eomer finds his sister in the stable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my [daily drabble challenge](http://canonisrelative.livejournal.com/23306.html). 200 words. Prompt: Second Fiddle.

He finds her in the stables, speaking quietly to Firefoot. This was her custom, to whisper words of strength and courage to the horse that would carry him away. But it is no battle they face on the morn, and this time it is she who will be leaving, he who will be left.

“Sister,” he calls, and for the first time in their lives she falters, hesitates before she turns. The fear in her eyes belies her smile and he knows then that he is lost. He is no longer her first, her only. His hands form fists at his side. He does not intend to beg. “You will go through with this marriage?”

So small and slight before him, his sister, the fire at the center of his world. Her words burn when he thought there was nothing left in the world that could pain him. “I love him.” 

With a roar, he slams his fist into the nearest wall. Wood splinters and skin splits. Her hands on his hands, lips on his lips, her touch soothes where her words wound. He breathes in the scent of her, once more to last a lifetime, and lets her go. 


End file.
